


screaming of a set up

by yunmin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Extra Treat, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Humour, M/M, Mission shenanigans, Pining, Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2017, Undercover, Wraith Squadron - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 06:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12835224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: Face and Phanan have been sent on a mission. It should be simple information retrieval, with an added twist; their cover is as newlyweds.





	screaming of a set up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [olio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olio/gifts).



“Will you go and fetch me a drink, _darling_?”

Phanan resists the urge to scowl back at Face; that would probably blow their paper-thin, extremely flimsy cover. He’s still trying to figure out if he’s been intentionally set up. Wedge Antilles has a devious streak, and Janson is worse. The rest of the Wraiths have been teasing him about his totally-none-existent crush for about a week now. It feels like a set up.

On the other hand, Face is wearing the tiniest swimsuit Phanan’s ever seen anyone get away with in public, and he’s not really sure he should be complaining.

He rakes his eyes up and down Face’s fine body – they’re supposed to be married, it’s part of the cover! – and smiles. “I don’t know _dear_ , you gonna make it worth my while?”

Face smiles that megastar smile, the one that won him the hearts of every teenage girl in the Galaxy – and a fair number of teenage boys too – and Phanan absolutely does not go weak at the knees. He’s above that. He hopes, anyway. Face leans in close to Phanan, wrapping one hand in the hideously garish patterned shirt that Phanan’s wearing. His mouth ends up just an inch or two away from Phanan’s. “I could think or a thing or two,” Face whispers, sounding genuinely seductive. Phanan can feel his breath warm on his lips.

He slides a little closer, wondering who’s going to be the one to break the elaborate game of chicken they’ve got going on. Face’s other hand is flat against Phanan’s chest, and it would take the slightest movement to claim Face’s lips in a kiss, which Phanan has wanted to do for the last month.

At the last second, he draws away. Does he really want to kiss Face like this, when it’s all a game?

“You better,” he tells Face, leaving him by the poolside to go and visit the bar. Phanan watches Face dive sleekly back into the water. They’re staying at some fancy, all-inclusive hotel, trying to fish some information out of a number of Zsinj’s people who are also staying here. They could have gone in as business men, or lads on a holiday, but no; the mission briefing that Antilles had given declared them _newlyweds_.

Face had fallen into the cover with glee; Phanan held a little more trepidation over it. Face’s wardrobe had been supplied by himself; Phanan’s genuinely hideous shirt had come out of the bottom of Antilles’ trunk. Phanan suspects that it might be a regift. He suspects it originated with Wes Janson. If he can bear to look at it long enough, he’s sure that there are Ewoks hidden in the pattern, though the colours are so bright he’s having trouble focusing.

He’s waiting for the bartender to mix their drinks – with actual alcohol in, because Phanan’s seen no sign of them actually getting the information they’re here to get, and if he has to deal with Face, well – when suddenly there’s a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and a lean damp body pressed to his back. Phanah almost flips them over his shoulder and throws them straight to the ground. “Relax, darling, it’s just me,” Face whispers in his ear.

“Miss me already?” Phanan shoots back.

“Every moment of every day, my sweet.” Face plants a kiss on Phanan’s cheek. The public display of affection means that everyone else stops paying a lick of attention to them. “Imperials, spotted, five-o’clock. No, don’t turn around you ninny.” Phanan wasn’t trying to, it’s just that Face’s whispering tickles, making him squirm in Face’s grip. “Was thinking we could head back to the room, maybe drop a bug off as we walked past?”

“Oooh, is _that_ how you’re going to make it worth my while?” Phanan replies, playing along for the benefit of the bartender who’s returned with the drinks Phanan ordered. “Sounds like a plan.”

Face takes the drinks. Phanan’s shorts have pockets, and in those pockets are a number of small listening devices. It’s a short-term solution, but all NRI want to know is if Zsinj’s men have an ulterior motive in being here or not. This will enable them to find out. All it takes is to walk a little unsteadily, Phanan clinging onto Face’s arm, and then a collision. Face spills a drink onto one of the men, and Phanan slips the bug into another’s pocket. They make profuse apologies, get shooed away for their troubles, and go smiling back to the hotel room they’ve been assigned.

Face starfishes face down on the bed, whilst Phanan fiddles with a connected datapad, trying to pick up the signal. This would be easier if they had their astromechs with them, but that would have given the entire game away. Static crackles. “Oh, come on Ton, it’s set to transmit all the recordings, we don’t need to actually listen,” Face whines.

Phanan can hear a voice, mumbling away about something or other. He leaves the datapad on the side, and turns to Face. “You going to find some clothes, now that you’re not jumping in the pool every chance you get?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Face’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Deprive you of the view? I would never.”

“You assume I actually have any interest in looking.” Phanan pointedly averts his eyes away from Face, because otherwise they will give him away.

“You know, you really aren’t as subtle as you think you are.” Phanan can hear the smirk in Face’s voice. Then, there are fingers on the metal plate the comprises half his face, inclining his face toward Face’s. Face is suddenly an inch away, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m sure that was supposed to be one of your many skills,” Phanan retorts.

“It’s not the only thing I’m good at.” Face is smug, but hideously, he deserves it. He’s pretty damn good at most of things Phanan’s see him turn his hand to. “I did say I’d make things worth your while.”

“How’re you—” _planning to do that_ , Phanan means to say, but Face’s lips crash onto his and then they’re kissing, and Phanan has no interest in saying anything else. Face’s mouth is soft, but demanding, and his hands are working under Phanan’s shirt, pulling him close.

When Phanan surfaces for air, he finds that he’s pinned down to the bed, Face grinning above him. “You know—” Phanan says, rolling Face so he can straddle him. “I’m fairly certain that this is not what we were supposed to end up doing on this mission.”

“Oh?” Face laughs. “Must have misheard those orders from Lieutenant Janson then. Sure he said something about getting my act together and screwing you.”

Phanan is momentarily outraged, but… “Well, you’ve still got some way to go before you’ve managed that mission.”

“I know.” Face darts in for a kiss. “Better get started.”


End file.
